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rememberwren · 3 months

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A Dichotomy of Thought || 6

Johnny and Simon argue.

CW: mentions of dub con/non con; domestic abuse; ableist slurs

Just when you settle in at your job he starts showing up at the diner to terrorize you, like an illness you cannot shake or a cloud you cannot outrun. Maybe he knows that that’s where you’re hiding your phone.

Maybe he knows that you have almost two thousand dollars stashed in your locker in the break room.

Either way, there is no rhyme or reason to his visits. He sets a pattern (once a week) and then breaks it, coming two days in a row, and then doesn’t visit for a whole month, until you are constantly off balance, always dreading the sound of the bell over the door.

Today when he comes, he seats himself at the bar where you are required to talk to him. He watches you work, delighting in the way your hands shake while you pour his coffee. You’ve never met someone who feeds off of fear like this, who gorges themselves on your flinches and trembling.

You think about shattering the coffee pot and taking one of the shards to his throat. You long to slit open his bloated belly and steal back all the feeling he has stolen from you. But you are useless, neutered by the fear that still remains, the fear yet to be eaten. One day…

“This one’s new,” he says, nodding to the new girl: young, with hair in a glossy, gleaming braid over her shoulder.

You tell him her name. How long she’s been working there now. That she’s nice. He hums, filing all the knowledge away in his head and dubbing it all useless by remarking, “Pretty.”

Your hand clenches into a tight fist around the rag you are using to wash down the bar. You don’t know why that bothers you. He hasn’t called you pretty since the early days when he was still trying to win you out from under your family’s thumb—like you wouldn’t have gone anywhere with anyone to be free of them, at the time (You’d had no idea that there were worse creatures out there than the ones who raised you). Maybe there’s some sick part of you that still wants to be wanted by him, that still wants to be pretty.

“Where’s Jackie?” he asks. Then, just to make your head spin: “You’ve been texting her more lately.”

Your skin flushes hot and then cold. You want to ask how he knows that, how he knows at all about the contact in your phone you named JACKIE when you keep your phone in your storage locker at work at all times, charging it in the breakroom, never to bring it home.

You hadn’t been stupid enough to save Simon’s number under his own name. No, God might not have given you enough sense to fill a teacup, but He gave you enough to fill a thimble. You just had to hope that would be enough. You had to hope that you could pull Jackie aside the next time you were both working together and that she would be willing to cover for you, should your boyfriend ask her about your ‘texts’. You hated bringing anyone else into the network of your own lies, but wrote it off as a necessary pain.

“It’s her day off,” you tell him.

He hums, doubtful.

The bell over the door rings.

Johnny looks thin and tired, arm crutch in place as Simon holds the door open for him. He’s dressed for the warm weather in a t-shirt and shorts which show the surgical scars at his knee, vivid purple lines in the fluorescent lights of the diner.

Simon spots you first, and a peculiar look comes over his face, one that you hope your boyfriend doesn’t see because you would have no way to explain it. You wouldn’t call it fondness, but it’s one of recognition certainly, a deeper understanding than you can just pass off as having run into each other a few times in the building.

Johnny sees you next and his face brightens. The strangest thought comes to you: I have made a friend. Then his eyes naturally flicker to your boyfriend, and his entire demeanor transforms—into one of such strange, dark, poignant delight, as if he and your boyfriend are old pals who have run into each other after years apart.

It makes your stomach turn over, and you don’t know why.

You’ve been silent too long. Your boyfriend has noticed, his head turning to take in the new patrons. He asks, voice mild and amused: “You know them?”

“They’re our neighbors. 5C.”

He sits up straighter. “No shit? That’s the cripple you almost killed?”

“He’s not a cripple,” you mutter.

“Sure looks like one from here.” Your boyfriend gives a little salute in greeting.

Johnny makes a beeline for the bar, crutch thudding rhythmically against the tiled floor with every purposeful step. He sits in the seat beside your boyfriend, removing his arm crutch and shifting it to rest on his other side against the edge of the bar. Simon reaches out and adjusts it to keep it from sliding over.

Simon slips into the seat beside him, quiet and solemn, looking like a man braced for bad news.

“Hey there, neighbor. Sorry about all that mess in the parking lot the other day,” your boyfriend says. He jerks a thumb toward you. “She never should have been behind the wheel if we’re being honest.”

“Then why the hell was she?” Johnny wonders, accent thicker than usual, rough. His tone is mild, but the grin pinned on his face is like a wolf’s: hungry for blood. Dangerous. It is so at odds with his happy demeanor that it makes goosebumps rise on your arms. For the first time since you’ve met him, Johnny frightens you.

Your boyfriend is no idiot. He senses the thinly veiled malevolence beneath Johnny’s words but doesn’t understand it (and neither do you). Maybe Johnny really is still upset about almost getting squished like a bug beneath your car, but in that case, his anger at your boyfriend is misplaced. You turn away, grabbing two empty mugs, shoulders tensing. Waiting for all that anger to find somewhere to go.

Your boyfriend shifts on his seat, sighing through his nose a little. He doesn’t like to admit this. “I had some trouble a while back. Got my license revoked.”

Johnny coos, condescending and mean: “Bad luck.”

“Johnny,” Simon says, voice flat with a warning. You place the mugs down in front of him and Johnny, your hands shaking. Reaching for the coffee pot, you fill both their cups to the hallway mark, leaving room for sugar and cream. Some sloshes over the edge of Johnny’s cup.

“Stupid. Stupid,” you mutter, reaching for your rag to wipe it away. The three of them pay you no mind.

“We should have you over. I get a couple of close friends together on Saturdays and we play poker. You’re welcome to join us,” your boyfriend says, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You blanch, rag dropping uselessly to the counter from your lax hand. The idea of Johnny and Simon being in your personal space, in the place where Bad Things Happen is a nightmare. Though you know they wouldn’t, (good people. They are good people), the thought of them taking place in Saturday poker rituals makes you feel sick. Fresh in your mind is your dream from the other night when you had ridden Simon until your boyfriend passed you on to someone new, and the thought of it becoming a reality is—it’s too much.

You leave your body.

“What do you think, baby?” he asks you, smiling. “Would you like to have them over? Would that be fun?”

“Yes,” your mouth answers numbly, because it has to.

“Then it’s settled. First deal is at noon and we play through the evening.”

“We’ll fucking be there,” Johnny says, words sounding adjacent to a threat.

Your boyfriend doesn’t stay long after that. Perhaps a part of him feels threatened by the presence of Simon, or perhaps he’s grown bored with tormenting you, but eventually he places money (your money. It’s your money. It’s your fucking money—) on the bar top and leaves, the bell ringing at his exit.

Johnny turns his blue eyes onto you. The wolf-like quality that had frightened you so much has fled, receded back into the man, no longer needed. But you know it is there. It’s in every man.

His voice is remarkably gentle when he asks you: “Lass, are you alright?”

“Yes,” your mouth says.

“You’re crying,” says Simon simply, reaching for a napkin to hand you. Your hand reaches for it numbly and uses it to pat at your face.

“It’s just something in my eye.” Your hands stuff the napkin in your apron and pull out your pad and pen, hand poised to write, eyes empty and unseeing. “What can I get for you?”

“He’s beatin’ her,'' Johnny says mildly. He waits until they are inside Simon’s car, stuck in traffic on the way back to the apartment. The heat is stifling, the AC not yet working after the time the car spent baking in the sunlight of the diner’s parking lot.

Simon reaches out and adjusts the knobs, turning them more toward himself. Johnny doesn’t like the cold much anymore, making Simon dread the thought of winter coming to the city, of snow. He can’t imagine what it will be like to be Johnny then, surrounded by ice all over again. Clearing his throat, he says: “I know.”

Johnny’s head snaps over to look at Simon, and the expression on his face is one akin to absolute betrayal. It’s the deepest of hurts, like Simon has reached out across the center console and slapped him. Johnny’s never given him that look in his entire life, and Simon could have gone the rest of his life without seeing it.

“You know. You know. And just what have you done to help her?”

“Help her?” Simon asks, bracing one elbow against the driver’s side door and massaging at his temples where a headache has been growing for the last two days. “How the hell do you want me to do that?”

“I can think of a few ways,” Johnny says darkly. “A few accidents that could happen to that cunt next door—”

“No,” Simon snaps. “Don’t even think about it, Johnny. Not only are you in no condition, but it’s fucking illegal.”

“So was half the shite we did in the name of Queen and Country,” Johnny hisses.

“We were following orders,” Simon says, hackles rising. “There’s a difference.”

“The difference is that now you’d have to use your own mind instead of letting someone else do the thinking fer you,” Johnny says, anger making him cruel.

Simon grits his teeth together. The car inches forward in traffic, and it takes all of his self control not to slam on the gas and rear end the car in front of him just to end this fucking conversation with Johnny.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, aiming for calm. He tries more sense, even if it feels like pushing a boulder uphill: “We have no resources to help her, and no idea that she even wants help.”

“Of course she wants help!” Johnny cries. “Why the fuck wouldn’t she?”

“Lots of reasons,” Simon says, thinking of his mother. What had been her reason for staying with his father for so long, for always being willing to open the door to him when he came knocking? Children. Money. Her religion. “You’re thinking of it in black and white but it isn’t. Nothing is.”

“Some things are. Some things are just wrong.” And then, voice laden with disappointment: “Yer a coward, Simon Riley.”

Simon feels these words in his chest, like Johnny has shaped them into a knife and jammed them between his ribs. Simon stares at the license plate in front of them until the numbers and letters blur together, until his eyes burn. His jaw aches from biting back so many hurtful things that he knows he could say, that he wants to say, just to hurt Johnny the way Johnny has hurt him.

But that’s just the imprint of his father on him, like a smudged thumbprint on the glass of his DNA. He’s a better man than that.

He knows it, even if Johnny doesn’t anymore.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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mrpenguinpants · 6 months

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Darling, Kiss Me.

— Kissing Scenarios with Honkai Men.

— Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Sampo, Welt, Dan Feng + Blade

[Masterlist]

I’m alive, surprise. This is an old fic that I managed to finish but I must have been injected with 40ccs of something because I don’t remember this being so sappy. I’m also editing this on my phone.

Dan Heng

Despite Dan Heng's outwardly stoic and blank expressions, his actions show his hidden affectionate nature reserved for the ones he cares about most. When March wants to take a picture, he will throw up a peace sign even though he never smiles brightly for the photo. When Himeko brews her infamous coffee, he drinks it under the pretense of "stamina training," yet he downs it all the same. But with you, it's slightly different. The intimacy you both share is silent, one that doesn't require flowery words to convey the comfort you find in each other's company. His eyes will soften slightly whenever he looks at you, and even in a crowded room, his gaze automatically shifts to yours as if drawn to you. How he always has an arm around your waist if the ground is uneven and how he doesn't shy away from your touch either but wordlessly leans into the warmth. Likewise, you have a fondness for the simple acts. Stepping to the side to always make space for him in group conversations and most importantly, brushing his hair. It's short and always relatively straight, but it's a simple act that you treasure. Plus he makes a sound similar to a purr when he closes his eyes to relish in your gentle touch that has your heart warming.

"Dan Heng?" you breathe softly above him, and he lifts his head with a gentle hum. Your hands move from his hair to cradle his face, fingertips drawing soothing circles before your thumb rests on his bottom lip. It makes him smile a tad, your unspoken desire is evident and he opens his eyes to peer up at your shy expression. "May I kiss you?"

His silent nod confirms your wish, and the anticipation in his eyes has you biting your lip to stifle your giggle. Without wasting another second, you tuck your hair behind your ear and lean down to give him a deep kiss. The feelings of you so close to him, your chest against his back, his face in your hands, the contrast between his roughness and your soft demeanor sends a shiver of delight through his body. But unlike him, you have to break away shortly to catch your breath. Though he doesn't let you breathe for too long.

"Again," he whispers, his eyes laced with desire. Your giggle rings out, a delightful sound that brings a smile to his face. As you intertwine your fingers with his, you lean in to kiss him once more.

Gepard

Gepard wonders how everyone would react if they knew their disciplined Captain was nothing more than a hopeless lovesick fool. How you would react if you knew how often he sits at his desk and daydreams of you rather than getting any actual work done. He leans his chin against his head, blankly staring at the most recent report that sits on his desk, yet his thoughts revolve around you. The messy bed hair that greeted him in the bathroom mirror, the sleepy good mornings and goodbyes before he left for work, and the small peck on the cheek as you sent him off.

He takes his earlier thought back. He wonders how his younger self would react knowing that the Gepard now can't even get through a few minutes without thinking about his spouse. What reaction would he have seeing the ring on his finger?

"Are you slacking off Captain?" a voice calls from behind as a pair of hands covers his eyes before he feels something soft against his forehead. He nearly breaks his desk when he jumps, accidentally hitting his knee, and the resounding thud has him wincing, but he quickly covers it with a pained smile. It does nothing to placate you as you rush to his side with concerned eyes and your hands already ready to soothe whatever injury he has.

"Are you alright?" you ask, your adorable concern shines through with the way your eyes scatter around to see if he has any other injuries. How meek you look with your hands locked together nervously, the way your lips downturn into a cute pout. But his enamourment time is cut short as he quickly stands from his seat to place two hands on your shoulder and give you a reassuring smile.

"Yes, I'm alright. Although, what are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you of course," he flushes at his startled reaction to your presence, but you don't seem to take any offense if your smile is anything to go by. You tilt your head at him, a cheeky smile playing on your lips, as you wrap your arms around his middle.

"Geppie, it's lunchtime. We're supposed to go out, remember?" You shake your head, but the fondness of your tone and the nickname stir a gentle affection within him. He easily picks you up into his arms, the delighted squeal and another kiss on the cheek he gets for the action that brings a smile to his face, as he waltzes out the door with you.

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan isn't the Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights for nothing. Even with the "dozing" term attached to a rather prestigious title, he is fully aware of what you're doing. The attempts to weasel up to him, practically in his lap as you lean against him, only to pull away at the last moment. You playfully twirl his hair with your index finger before sticking your tongue out and skipping away.

But now it's night time and Jing Yuan can shed his title like the armor he smoothly removes in practiced motions. Right now, he is but a man who desires to kiss his tease of a lover. He doesn't give you a warning, this entire day has been a warning anyway, and he won't let you run away before getting his just dues. After all the playful antics, it's his turn now.

His eyes remain on his papers, but his ears are alert as he waits for your fifth sneak-up attack. Already attuned to the familiar rhythm of your footsteps approaching from behind as he counts down in his head. Your fingers brush against his hair, and he can sense the mischievous glint in your eyes, before he swiftly turns and scoops you up into his arms. The squeal that escapes you is more than worth it as you giggle and wiggle out of his hold.

"Nooo, let me go!" your cries are light-hearted and Jing Yuan revels in the moment of gentle playfulness that's desperately missing in his life as a general. You frantically continue tugging at anything that can free you, from the sleeve on his forearms to the lapels in his coat, you even crane your neck to bite his face as if you're a wild animal. Jing Yuan chuckles with a smug smile, and in the showmanship of strength, he easily stands up, his hands firmly under your knees in a secure but gentle grasp.

"Finally caught you," he breathes out softly before tilting his head down and closing the distance between your lips.

Sampo

"What exactly are you doing?" a voice sounds behind him, causing him to flinch slightly as he spins on his heel, his arms already up. He meets your frown with a cheerful smile and even a playful wink. Sadly, his charming facade has no affect on you, if anything it makes your frown deeper as your hands come up to cup around your mouth.

"Captain Gepard! There's a weird man he-"

"Wait! Wait! Stop! I'm sorry!" Sampo pleads, falling to his knees with his arms outstretched to latch his slimy hands around your waist as he nuzzles his face against your stomach. "Seriously, how could you do that to your own boyfriend?!"

You let out a sigh beyond your years but you sigh nonetheless. Your hands come up to pet Sampo's head, fingers brushing through his blue hair before your hand pushes away the strands lying upon his forehead so you can see both of his eyes. He peers up at you curiously before sending you another wink that you immediately pinch his cheek for.

"You know I wouldn't do that. Besides, what are you doing here exactly? If it is something scammy, I will tell Gepard," you say and Sampo gives you a devilish grin that has you instantly regretting asking. He unlatches himself from you to stand and reach for something in a wooden barrel. Before he pulls his arm out, he glances back at you to make sure your eyes are on him, before he pulls out a single white flower.

"For the most beautiful person in the galaxy. It's called a cecilia flower. A beautiful flower with a name that suits its appearance. It only grows where harsh winds blow, and is just as intangible as the true heart of an unbound soul. Here, for you," Sampo offers the flower to you and you tentatively reach out and grasp the delicate stem. You glance up at him to confirm, and Sampo nods with a sincere smile, and you let yourself fall into childlike glee of being gifted a flower.

"Thank you, Sampo," you whisper, "It's lovely."

A surprised squeak escapes your lips when Sampo nips at you, and then he starts peppering your face with soft kisses. It’s enough to distract you from asking how the hell he managed to get this flower.

Welt

Welt's caring nature knows no bounds for anyone he holds close to. Whether it's making sure the "youngster's" are well-prepared for their journey or making sure Himeko isn't downing her 7th cup of coffee, he ensures each interaction is filled with tenderness and care. Though he understands that everyone on the Express may come and go, he approaches every action with consideration and cherishing the time you spend with each other while it's still here.

In the quietness of the Express, where everyone has retired to their room, Welt sit's alone in the parlor alone. Even Pom-Pom has found a place to curl up and sleep the night away, leaving Welt to sit and bask in the silence. That is until he hears the familiar noise of the automatic door sliding open and he looks up to meet your startled eyes. You're both in a stand still as if he's caught you do something bad, regardless of the fact you're almost the same age, before he sends you a soft smile.

"Can't sleep? I understand — inspiration always comes knocking in the small hours. It's hard to ignore, right?" he asks voice almost a whisper as you sheepishly nod as you approach him and sit down beside him. It's a comforting silence between the two of you, the heat of your bodies drawn close together, as the world outside fades away. Until a soft hum escapes you and you lift your head to look at him, his small smile meeting your curious gaze, as he patiently waits for your inquiry.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, your voice slightly raspy from the lack of sleep but the amusement that flickers in your eyes is active enough that Welt props himself up to look at you more directly.

"Right now?" he asks, curiosity lacing his voice at your abrupt request rather than scrutiny. You nod an answer as you shuffle closer, still giving enough distance should Welt be uncomfortable, but he doesn't pull away, instead reaching out to brush your hair back and tuck it behind your ears.

In a quiet shuffle, he moves closer to you, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. His fingers trace the curve of your face affectionately, his movements slow and thoughtful. The earlier teasing gives way to a moment of genuine intimacy, punctuated by the softness of his touch and the warmth of his gaze. As he leans in, you can feel his warm breath fanning your face, his eyes half-closed, as if savoring the anticipation of the moment. As he pulls you in, you close your eyes, the corners of your mouth lifting into a smile when his lips meet yours. The kiss is sweet and gentle, filled with the love that you share.

Dan Feng

Due to his position in the hierarchy of the Xianzhou, Dan Feng's desires are kept under a tight lid outside of his own control. His words and orders are listened to and acted upon, but when it comes to more personal wants, they are shut down entirely and removed. After all, their esteemed High Elder shouldn't be swayed by such material and emotional things. So when it comes to being selfish, Dan Feng will often imply his needs rather than outright stating them. Whether it's a simple request for your time over cups of steaming tea or a craving for the solace of your presence, it leaves you blindly guessing most of the time for what your dragon yearns for.

So naturally, as you walk ahead of him and the distance grows between you, you don't hear his faint coughs and subtle glances to catch your attention. He even makes a desperate attempt, reaching his hand out to catch your shoulder, but his hesitation catches him and his fingertips hover before you step away out of reach.

Thump Thump

He quickly reaches behind him to stop his tail from thumping against the wooden floors but it's too late. The noise makes you turn around, looking around the surrounding area before settling on him curiously. The slight tilt of your head as you silently question him if he heard the same sound as you did but all he can focus on is what that cute little action does to his heart. His grip on his tail tightens.

"High Elder? Is there something that is not to your standard?" you politely ask and he mentally huffs at your words. You're both alone, you don't need to address him like that anymore. A turquois scaly tail shifts out beneath his clothing, looping around your ankle, and with a good tug, he pulls you towards him.

"High Elder?" you asked, bewildered, as you look up to face an awkward Dan Feng. There's a fraction of a pout forming on his lips as he continues to stare elsewhere, his tail rhythmically tapping against your leg as if that will help you understand his hidden meaning. However, when you take too long, Dan Feng's eyes glance over to yours, the drift down to your lips, before snapping back up and away at the wall. He ignores how fast his cheeks heat up when you start giggling, even pressing your face into his chest to try and muffle it.

"Come here," you whisper, your hands trailing up from his shoulders to his cheeks as you pull him gently down. Even if he is the High Elder of the Vidyadhara, he follows your command.

Blade

Given Blade's past and present circumstances, he hasn't had the time to sit down and explore more complicated relationships, let alone friendships, even with his loosely named comrades. His days are restless, and he rarely sleeps much when every time he closes his eyes, a familiar pair of ocean eyes stare back before searing pain over his body jolts him awake.

You find yourself in this strange limbo of understanding but feeling the weight of his absence. You aren't sure where you stand in Blade's hierarchy of concerns. Whether you're on that list entirely or not. There are nights when he stumbles into your bed, but you'll never wake up to him in the morning. There are moments when he'll abruptly flinch away from you before leaving you behind in the comfort of your home. The constant back-and-forth leaves you both yearning for him, yet spiteful that this one man has so much control over your emotions. Sometimes it feels like it isn't worth it anymore.

However, those difficult moments are balanced by Blade's sincere efforts. How he'll turn his back to you when he places his sword away, how he'll bring you things when he's been gone for an especially long time, and how sometimes it looks like he's looking at you and not someone else. They all stir warmth in your heart, and you think to yourself that next time, next time for sure, you'll tell him to never come back.

"Are you leaving?" you whisper behind him as he pulls his coat back onto his shoulders. The low beam of the streetlamps peeking through your window is the only source of light, but it's enough to see Blade nod. Although it's not like you need confirmation, you've been through this song and dance far too many times, "This is the las-".

In a sudden and unexpected twist of fate, Blade turns around and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. His hand comes up to press your head gently against his chest, so close that you can't see his expression.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs into the quietness of the night as he kisses the top of your head.

"I'll be back soon," is all he says. Those are his parting words before he disappears into the night and leaves you alone in your quiet house once again.

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crosbyism · 27 days

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"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

#god there’s so much #anyway please refer to the primer if you wanna know more #sidnate #squidney crocsby #natty mac #kookanswers #anon #long post

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adverbally · 19 days

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Don’t Get Me Wrong

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “make-up sex” | wc: 1,258 | rated: M | cw: sexual content | tags: misunderstanding, handjobs, sexy biting, the conflict and making up is pretty one-sided because I don’t like when they fight for real | title from the song by The Pretenders

———

Steve’s day is a blur of anxiety and guilt. This is why he hates going to bed angry— it always takes too long to resolve and makes him a nervous wreck in the meantime. Luckily, second graders aren’t perceptive enough to notice the way Steve paces the room while they work on their art projects.

The previous day’s migraine still lingers, leaving Steve with a vaguely hungover feeling and requiring him to wear his glasses, much to the kids’ delight. He has to wonder how much of his fatigue is due to the postdrome and how much is from sleeping so poorly without Eddie beside him. Eddie not only slept in the guest room but left before Steve woke up this morning, both of which are bad signs. Either he was up all night obsessing over what Steve said and figured he might as well get an early start, or he was trying to avoid talking to Steve before they headed to work. Or both.

Whatever his motive, Eddie isn’t home when Steve gets back, or when he has dinner ready to serve, or when Steve gets tired of Letterman’s voice and goes to bed alone. The thought of another night without Eddie almost makes him sick, but maybe this is what he deserves for treating Eddie like he had. Steve buries his head under the covers and tries not to cry.

It’s late when Eddie slips under the sheets behind him, waking Steve from a light doze. Eddie has an arm draped over his waist and his nose pressed into the back of Steve’s neck, and it’s so normal that Steve thinks he could choke on it. He can’t get his throat to cooperate enough to say anything, but he lays his arm over Eddie’s and squeezes his wrist.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you feeling better?” Eddie whispers, cautious about aggravating Steve’s noise sensitivity. It’s that concern, shared without bringing up Steve’s actions from yesterday, that breaks the dam.

Steve clutches at Eddie’s arm, the only thing tethering him to their bed. “I’m sorry, Eds, I’m so sorry.“

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s voice takes on a panicked edge at the first sign of Steve’s distress. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

“I yelled at you. I told you to shut up and leave me alone, and you did,” he recounts miserably.

Eddie props himself up on his elbow and encourages Steve to roll onto his back so they can see each other. “Steve, you had a migraine and I was making too much noise. It’s okay if you need some space when you don’t feel well, and I’m sure you would’ve been nicer about it if your brain hadn’t been trying to kill you, but I get it. I didn’t take it personally.”

“But… you didn’t come to bed.”

“We talked about it earlier this week,” Eddie reminds him gently, “I had a band who needed to coordinate studio time around their day jobs. It was an early start this morning, then I stayed late when they came back in the evening.”

It does sound somewhat familiar. “You planned to sleep in the guest room anyway,” he remembers, feeling a little foolish for overreacting. “‘Cause you didn’t want to wake me up.”

Eddie’s brow creases beneath his bangs. “Have you been feeling bad about this all day?”

Steve doesn’t want to sound pathetic, but he admits, “I tried to call you at lunch but you didn’t answer. I guess it felt like I should take the hint, you know?”

“I was stuck in a meeting with the marketing team. No passive-aggressive messages here, I promise. I didn’t even know there was anything to be passive-aggressive about.” Eddie sweeps a stray piece of hair away from Steve’s forehead and kisses the skin he uncovers at his temple.

Steve shuts his eyes and groans dramatically. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Eddie insists, looking into his eyes so Steve can see how much he means it. “You’re just sensitive to other people’s feelings, even if they’re not necessarily feeling the feelings you think they’re feeling.” His mouth twitches as he realizes how ridiculous that sentence was.

Steve smiles along with him. “You know, I think I got what you meant there, but I’m not sure.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Next time you’re worried that you were an asshole, ask me. You know I have no problem fighting when there’s a fight to be had.”

“Okay.” Steve nods decisively. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Eddie’s gaze drops to Steve’s lips. “Now can I kiss you? I’ve been home for, like, ten minutes and not touching you is making me crazy.”

Steve squeezes their interlocked fingers where they still lie draped over his belly. “You are touching me,” he points out, already tilting his head so Eddie will have a good angle as he slots their mouths together.

It’s like Eddie knows just what Steve needs right now, something slow and loving to prove that everything is okay between them. He kisses him with a lazy rhythm that makes Steve melt back into the pillows with a sigh. Every languid swipe of their tongues, every gentle touch of a hand on his jaw or the back of his neck or the curve of his hip, wipes more of the self-consciousness from Steve’s mind until there’s nothing but Eddie— his faded cologne, his tangle of hair, his cigarette-and-cinnamon-gum taste.

“Can I—?” Steve half-gasps into Eddie’s mouth, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

“Shit, yeah, lemme just…” He grunts as he lifts himself enough for Steve to shimmy the underwear off his hips. “And you,” he breathes, already pulling Steve’s pajama pants halfway down his thighs.

They move in unison, each grabbing the other’s half-hard cock with a dry palm. It’s uncomfortable but the touch is incidental to the closeness it facilitates. Forehead to forehead, breathing the same air between filthy kisses, mindlessly rolling their hips into each stroke, they cling to each other like they’re afraid to let go.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie groans when Steve nips at his jaw. He tilts his head back in invitation. “Harder.”

Obediently, Steve ducks to bite the join of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, digging into the muscle there with abandon. He uses the flesh between his teeth to muffle his own moans when Eddie twists his wrist just right and starts to move a little faster.

“Yeah, gonna make sure everyone knows I’m yours?” Eddie laughs breathlessly, torn between rutting into Steve’s fist or arching into the dull ache in his throat. “Leave bruises so I can still feel you tomorrow?”

“Every day,” Steve murmurs into his skin, soothing the bite mark with his tongue.

Then Eddie’s free hand is pulling Steve upward by his hair and swallowing his whine while Steve comes helplessly, and Eddie is following him over the edge and adding to the mess across Steve’s stomach, and they really need to shower but Steve has Eddie draped halfway on top of him, kissing him lazily, and he probably couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

They’re just beginning to doze when Steve says, “Don’t sleep in the guest room again?” It’s more a question than a request. “I don’t care how early you have to get up, it sucks going to bed without you.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie agrees sleepily. He turns his head where it’s pillowed on Steve’s chest and kisses his nipple.

“Love you.”

Eddie doesn’t respond, already starting to snore a little, but Steve feels him loving him back anyway.

#steddiesmuttyseptember #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mine #okay this month is kicking my ass so I’m giving myself permission for this to suck a little #I’m writing to have fun not to win the Nobel Prize for Literature

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jester-lover · 9 months

Note

May I please ask for a Jamil, Leona and Azul with a female reader, where the reader is a secret admirer of them and has been giving them secret little gifts with cheesy love notes throughout the year and has always acted like "That's so corny, why would I ever do such a thing-" if they are ever around hearing about the gifts- just trying to throw them off the trail the whole time because they are too embarrassed to admit they have been crushing on them this whole time- and maybe the receiver of said gifts figuring out who it is one day- thank you!

Secret Admirer

Feat/ Jamil, Leona, Azul

CW/ Female reader, fluff, insecurities, shyness, embarrassment

Jamil

Jamil wholeheartedly thinks someone’s messing with him at first

That is, until the little gifts and notes get more personal

When he starts finding bottles of his favorite hair oil, little compliments about his basketball skills, and pocket-sized bug spray, he knows it’s someone who knows him

At one point, Jamil couldn’t believe someone would care for him, but this mindset was quickly taken over by his desire to lavish the attention this stranger gave him

He feels like he’s in the spotlight; someone cares for him the most, and the thought brings a blush to his cheeks and a flaming desire in his heart to find the person who is giving him these tokens

Jamil almost can’t believe it's been you this whole time, but the surprise washes away into a form of pure delight he hasn’t felt in ages

He most definitely catches you slipping something onto his side table or getting something in the mail that has strikingly similar handwriting to yours

Either way, he quickly tells you he knows, stumbling over his words as he tells you he feels the same way

Jamil finds your immediate denial and slow acceptance of the fact that you’re caught to be a beautiful sight and knows he’ll treasure you above anything else

“I know it’s you…I’m glad I’ve been getting such sweet attention from someone I love just as much…”

Leona

Leona knows from the first letter

While he figured out that you were his secret admirer from day 1, most likely from the fact that the paper smelled just like you, he keeps a facade of stupidity on toy with you

He waves around the little pink notes and gifts almost cartoonishly, chuckling to himself as he watches you stammer on about how cringe-worthy such loud declarations of affection are

He keeps every trinket, letter, and preservable good you get him, keeping it in a box carefully hidden in his dorm

(because God forbid anyone thinks he’s gone soft)

One day, when he knows you're catching on to his knowledge, he presents you with the box and tells you how he knew from the beginning and that he feels the same way about you

“Who knew you could be such a poet, Herbivore? Way better than the other poet I know…”

Azul

You would think he would know too, but he’s deluded himself into thinking you’d never like him back and that it’s one of the twins messing with him

But then, as he thinks about when he’s finding the little charms and notes, he realizes the twins would be working at those times and unable to plant them

Then, he starts thinking about how, whenever he brings up the admirer with you, you immediately start denying or shying away from the topic

(He’s pacing around his office at this point)

Azul most definitely sends out Jade to keep a close eye on you, and when he reports back confirming your role as Azul’s secret admirer, he practically melts

Not only does he plan out how he’ll tell you he knows, he has you presented with a special VIP offer to eat at the lounge

This is, of course, so he can get you alone

Half way through his planned speech, he starts bumbling on about how he can’t believe it and how he’d love to be your partner and take care of you

“O-of course I knew this the entire time! I just didn’t say so because I-I quite enjoyed the attention…”

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undeadcannibal · 1 year

Note

Cod men with an so that has a kink for their gear/uniform *insert evil laugh* like they come home from work and their so is just DROOLINGGG over them like ughhh

Summary: Headcanons for Alejandro, Ghost, and Price with an SO who likes their gear/uniform~

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Alejandro, Ghost, and Price

Warnings: none!

A/N: Hello hello! Thank you for the request, Anon. Hopefully this suffices because I felt I didn’t do this one enough justice cause I’m getting back into the swing of things, ahhh. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! TuT ( Gif credit: xxx )

Alejandro―

He's the type to immediately notice your affinity for his gear, even if you're the type that tries to suppress your desires

Specifically, he notices each time your gaze lingers on his form longer than usual. Even more so when he has to stop to adjust or fix a part of his uniform

At first, he doesn't let you know he's in on your little secret. Although, that doesn't mean he doesn't feed into it whenever he has the chance

Whenever he's returning home from an extended mission - regardless of whether or not he's exhausted - he'll take his sweet time in removing his gear. Allowing you to soak in the view of each and every intricate piece adorning his body

With Alejandro's gear, it's difficult for you to pick a favorite piece you enjoy seeing him wear, but he notes that familiar gleam of desire in your eyes whenever he's dealing with straps

Naturally, so he's not losing anything important, they've to be pretty tight to his form. Still, he'll go just a bit tighter than he usually does right before he's through the door

I can also definitely see him as the type to try and impress you by showing off, busting open the tight strap wrapped around his flexing bicep~

Kiss him and tell him all about how much you adore seeing him in his gear and he'll happily put on a show for you in any of his uniforms/sets

Ghost―

Much like Alejandro, he notices the lingering looks and extra touches to his gear right away. However, he's much more subtle about indulging you with it

He doesn't always like to wear his full gear when he's home. I headcanon him as the type to prefer to keep that part of his life separate from his home life for many reasons

However...

He'll tease you ever so often by wearing one of his more casual skull-decorated masks around the house, maybe even including his skeleton gloves if he's feeling extra

Either way, you best believe he'll casually torture you when wearing them around you. Going out of his way to purposefully ignore any staring or dodging certain touches he knows are just to cop a feel

Once he thinks you've had enough, he finally indulges you by touching you with his gloved hands wherever you please~

Possibly could be talked into bringing a mask of his into the bedroom for you

GOD, GIVE ME MASKED, GLOVED GHOST IN MY BEDROOM AHHH

He won't admit how much he enjoys it like you, but after trying it a few times, I can definitely see him imagining those evenings you spend together each time he sees those gloves and mask

Price―

Sometimes when he's too tired, he'll get a little lazy when taking off his gear, so occasionally he'll bump into you while still wearing his vest and hat

Though, shortly after noticing the way you become very interested in his gear, he's perking up in no time. Why was he so tired again?

Much like Alejandro, he delights in giving in to your desires and goes out of his way to leave on certain pieces of his gear/uniform when he's feeling in the mood to be a tease

Adores the way your hands feel tugging on his vest impatiently, or whenever you're pleading for something you need

If you're good, maybe even lets you wear the hat while the two of you fool around

Seeing you wearing it while atop him makes him understand why you like seeing him in his own gear so much

Even more so if you're just wearing his hat~

#call of duty x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #anonymous #requests #opened mail #my writing

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dottiro · 22 days

Text

Power Struggle

Unreliable summary: Pantalone is a Svengali figure. He dominates reader's life in the most backhanded and subtle ways without trying to be subtle. // Pantalone consumes everything he touches; he is a black hole with no affection but only the need for possession. Warnings: Yandere, unhealthy relationships, power abuse, toxicity, manipulation Note: We're breaking free from the rewrites with this one >:3

Business is profitable for any banker in the current season. Every year, a few days after New Year's celebrations, people can’t resist the urge to take loans and make uncalculated decisions to achieve the goals they have set for the year.

For as long as you have known Pantalone, he’s been unavailable until the season of new debtors passes,

—every year, except this one.

Despite being overworked and underslept, tonight, he has decided to make time for you.

Pantalone’s voice is less sharp than usual. It’s the only way you can pick up on his exhaustion. Otherwise, his outfit is as clean as his calm expression is; a neverending masquerade where he hides his real thoughts and self.

Yet, despite his exhaustion, he talks as if he hadn’t been able to in weeks. And because Pantalone tends to monologue, you naturally take on the role of dutiful listener.

“I’ve mentioned this in our last meeting, but there is an upcoming party. One that promises to be quite bothersome. I wish I could take you for it’d bring me a sliver of joy, alas, bringing a commoner would be an insult. Not that I’d think that. You do know I adore you, right? Either way, you wouldn’t be interested in coming. Politics don’t suit you. You’re too meek.”

The words fly past his teeth without any guard. Part of you takes offence, yet another part can’t be bothered to care.

Today, it’s much easier to let everything drift by. The promise of the clouds in the air and the lingering freedom they bring guide you towards a new future. Your eyes drift lower out of the window. Many tall and imposing buildings flash by as the car drives forward. Those, too, are but a nuisance.

You wonder…

Will Pantalone accept your choices when you share them tonight?

He has always been peculiar and too specific with how he prefers things.

Would he judge your future?

In the background, you hear more words escape his lips. You enjoy the sound of it.

Pantalone’s voice has always been soft. He despises it, but you like how it lingers over your thoughts and blocks out your worries.

It’s a reminder of his presence and how he keeps you close to him—grounded.

“—one of the maids working in my mansion seemed to take offence when I arrived at my own home unannounced. People truly are despicable. No matter how many chances you give them, they can’t help but disappoint.”

More words, yet the meaning behind them gets lost the more he talks.

Normally you’d listen closer, forcing yourself to stay close to his thoughts.

Right now, you’re unable to blame your distraction on the long words he uses.

Today, something bigger has consumed your mind.

“Y/n?”

Pantalone calls out to you.

Only after he calls out your name you notice that the car has stopped at his chosen destination. Quickly, you glance through the dark-tinted window separating the car from the outside world. You catch grand doors under a lit-up sign; ‘Northland’s Delight’.

How did you miss your arrival?

‘Northland’s Delight’...

—why does the name spark familiarity?

Despite you being the one who had not-so-subtly dropped hints about wanting to meet up with him, Pantalone took the initiative to pick a date, time, and place to meet, and perhaps that’s where recognition falls. Surely he’s mentioned the name somewhere in your prior conversations. You likely forgot about it.

As sudden as your arrival had been, Pantalone appears in your vision, blocking the sight of the restaurant from your eyes. Instinctively your hand reaches for the seat next to you, only to find it empty.

You frown. He’s not there.

Are you really that out of it?

Dazed, you stare as Pantalone opens the door for you, something he insists on doing whenever you ride with him. A smile is on his face when he looks down at your sitting form. You notice how his figure casts a shadow over you and consumes your entire line of sight.

“You are preoccupied today.” Pantalone doesn’t sound angry, but his words make you feel nervous. You crane your neck upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of his expression and thoughts. “Am I supposed to be offended?”

His hand outstretches in front of you. Without a second of delay, you reach for the grasp of his cold leather gloves.

You’ll have to mind your daydreaming from this point forward. It’d be rude of you to be distracted when he had cleared his busy schedule in favour of you.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my intention to be distracted. Honestly, I am more excited for tonight than you could be.”

There is a small interruption between your sentences as he brings you up on your feet and out of the car.

“I didn’t expect that you’d take time off for me. I knew you would be busy and I didn’t want to cause you trouble,” you admit, though, your nerves are only partially to blame on him clearing his schedule for something less important—like yourself.

His eyes linger on your figure as he smiles wider. “An evening spent with you is an investment worth making. Though, I hope you’ll make it worth my time.”

His voice is laced with enough joy to make it sound like a tease. In the end, you can’t fight the smile forming on your face as his thumb caresses the top of your palm.

Feeling more at ease, you move to link your arm with his non-dominant one, knowing he’d shake you off if you tried to go for the other side.

Pantalone has always been a touchy man, even when you first met him. If your arm wasn’t around his, he’d put his hand on the small of your back or your shoulder. It seemed like he preferred to be as close as possible, never letting you escape his presence.

And while you hadn’t seen him around other people, you assumed it had to be a habit of his.

Over time, you shrugged the action off as noble formalities and offered your arm without him needing to ask.

Pantalone tugs you closer with his arm. By his side, you smell the rich perfume he’d put on. His other hand moves to your arm, gently patting it as he leads you forward.

When you walk up the stairs leading to Northland’s Delight, you notice two bulky men standing on either side of the grand doors. By the time you’ve reached the small staircase leading up to the entrance, they’ve moved to open them, inviting you into the warm interior of the luxurious place.

You can’t help your visible awe as you take in the entrance hall of Northland’s Delight.

The first thing your mind catches is the almost overwhelming grandeur of the interior. The entrance hall is expansive. Broad, high ceilings adorned with exquisite chandeliers cast a warm and inviting glow throughout the room and decorate the reflective floor with shimmers from their crystals.

Your eyes dart over to the walls, which are decorated with wallpapers complimenting the royal theme of the restaurant. As you look closer, you notice their intricate designs drawn with subtle colours. Small curls and elegant shapes move from the ground to the nooks and crannies, filling the entire space with luxury.

As your feet step on top of the red carpet that drags into another room, you see yet another space—one more grand than the current.

With only a glance, you can captivate its carefully arranged seating; noticing that it must be the main dining room. Further, thick velvet curtains create a sense of privacy for the patrons within the room. Another chandelier hangs above the people, and each table is decorated with plates that resemble art rather than food.

You feel out of place amidst everything, but this certainly is a place Pantalone would dine at.

Distracted by the luxury, you only notice the woman who has approached you when she pulls out a standard greeting. Dressed in deep reds, golds, and browns—similar to the interior—the hostess of tonight introduces herself to Pantalone.

While the ‘good evening’ and ‘I hope your travels were safe and without trouble’ passes, your thick winter coats are taken by other personnel.

Through it all, you continue to hold Pantalone’s arm.

Between all the things overwhelming you, you realise that the hostess had addressed your company as if she recognised him. You silently note that Pantalone must come here often on business dinners, too.

“We reserved your usual seat, my Lord.” The woman informs him.

Pantalone doesn’t do more beyond nodding his head subtly.

“Please follow me, my Lord.” The hostess takes a short bow before she leads the two of you out of the entrance hall and into the main scene.

Being led deeper into the building, previous distant conversations become clear. As you move in closer, your eyes instinctively move closer to the rich joy of the others.

From what you can see, tables are spread wide and far enough to grant each patron a feeling of seclusion yet a sense of fullness and intimacy from the decor that fills the empty spaces. From every side, laughter chimes like a song and an irresistible warmth hangs over the room.

You are certain; this is a place for get-togethers, somewhere no business is dealt—safe for the exchange of smiles.

Here, lovers from rich families are able to retreat. They can enjoy themselves from the prying eyes of the public or their families.

Not a single person looks out of place.

As you come close, the hostess suddenly changes enroute, instead heading to the stairs.

You are led to the first floor, and almost instantly as you step up, the atmosphere changes.

A part of you should’ve known today wouldn’t be the day where Pantalone would mingle with others. He is paranoid to the point where he believes any person is out for his demise.

With this, you guess that he must’ve hired a private room for tonight.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, the laughter has become a background noise again. Then, it takes a few more steps before you arrive at tonight’s dining room, which is basically a large closed-off room with a single table in the middle.

You watch the candle that’s been lit and placed on top of the round table. It is the only source of warmth, much unlike the space below you.

Pantalone pulls one of the chairs back and helps you get settled into the lush, upholstered seating before he pulls out the other chair for himself.

When you’re both ready, the hostess has been replaced by a common waiter and Pantalone awakens the evening by ordering a bottle of his favourite wine—something that’s become a routine. Always insisting on pouring your glass without consent or questions.

In repressed silence, you let him.

“How was your day, darling?” Pantalone’s voice is relaxed. Unlike before in the car, he is now fully alone with you. Thus, he feels some sense of safety in exposing the barest of his vulnerability.

Crossing one leg over another while straightening your back, you ineptly mirror his relaxed but undoubtedly composed (if not perfect) posture.

You lower your head.

Truth be told, you’ll always feel out of place in these affluent settings.

Growing up in the middle-to-low class has made you feel guilty whenever Pantalone brings you luxurious places. You know that you can never repay him, but you also know that if you were to share your discomfort he wouldn’t bend.

Pantalone would never lower himself to anything but opulence, so he forces you to become one with him instead. He lifts you up in status, merging you into his ideals as he takes you wherever he wishes to go.

Your lips find the rim of the wine glass and you take a sip as you try to relax your nerves.

When you set it down on the table again, you look up at Pantalone, who is already looking at you, waiting for an answer.

A slight flush forms on your cheekbones under the weight of his golden gaze.

“It’s been nearly two months since I’ve last seen you. I know you’ve been busy, and you still are, but I have something important I’ve been working on too. Ever since the moment you told me about tonight’s plans, I’ve been excited to share them. But, perhaps, a bit nervous too.”

While a smile forms on your face, Pantalone’s dips. It is for only a second, but you swear you saw his lips part and the uncertain furrowing of his eyebrows.

He sits up straighter, uncertain in only the seconds before he speaks.

“Hmm. It is nearly impossible for someone to bring me something I don't already possess. You almost make me curious for this ‘exciting news’.”

Is he mocking you?

You blame it on ignorance.

“I would hope so. Though…” You fiddle with the lace ends of the cloth that spread over the table.

In case your news is unwelcome, you’d like to delay the moment for as long as possible. If it goes well, you can ask him to stay, if not, you can simply leave by the end of the night.

“—is it alright if I tell you at the end of dinner?”

The way your voice came up at the end of your sentence made it sound as if you unconsciously sought approval. It had made it seem like a question when you had already made up your mind.

Lucky for you, Pantalone doesn't seem particularly bothered by what you had to tell.

“Of course, my dear.”

His smile is back on his face and he falls back to his act of casualty, being quick to brush you off as he resumes his monologue.

And as the night continues, the space you occupy becomes smaller.

The previous distance and coldness in the room are filled by his endless chatter, being further accompanied by gentle touches as he compels to invade your space. His actions make any stretch between you null.

Soon, hours have passed, and before you know it, Pantalone has ordered dessert. One for you, none for him. A treat, or so he’d say.

You attempt to ease into the topic you want to talk about.

“Pantalone,” you hesitate.

With a slight delay, he answers your call with a casual tilt of his head as he intertwines his hands in front of his chest.

“Remember when we first met?”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “I recall correctly, you were but a freshly graduated student with more debt than one could pay off in a lifetime. More importantly, you were serving me in a restaurant similar to this. Your uniform was always stained from your hard work.”

You make a bow, as is customary before introducing yourself.

Tonight’s patrons are ‘VIPs amongst VIPs’—as had your boss mentioned before. Initially, you weren’t supposed to serve them. Your task was menial, greeting the people at the entrance hall and taking their cloaks.

It was supposed to be that easy, but…

“Y/n…” The man with hair as dark as ink echoes your name. While you avoid staring as much as possible, you catch his eyes darting over your figure; from your face to your neck, down, and up again.

He is gorgeous…

The man speaks again. His voice is gentle and smooth, yet he talks with authority and control—as if he owns the place and its people. “Are you serving any tables tonight?”

“No sir.”

“Delightful. Then, tonight, I’d like you to serve me.”

It turns out he needs only a single word to change the entire plan for that evening.

One word, and he changes everything.

At first sight, Pantalone had taken a liking to you.

“You graduated from one of the most respected universities in Snezhnaya, yet someone like you ends up in a restaurant. Truly a pity.”

“...”

“If and when the opportunity arises, would you be willing to change your predicament?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“From what I see; you either take fate in your hands and bend it to your favour—taking every opportunity for yourself, or you stay in your current position—surviving, but never more than that.”

“I think anyone would want to take control of their fate.”

“In that case,” he gestures to the other end of his table in the private room. “Convince me to hire you.”

Meeting him had changed your life.

After graduating you fell into an impossible situation. While months passed of you applying anywhere and everywhere, you were unable to secure a job. Before you knew it, you got in trouble with debt collectors trying to collect what debt you had accumulated during your academic years.

To keep your life from crumbling apart, you worked multiple low-wage jobs that you were overqualified for.

Then, during that fateful evening of you acting as his server, Pantalone had invited you to sit with him. He ate, and you promoted yourself and your qualities. Supposedly, he liked your polite attitude or unwavering patience for his endless questions, because by the end of that night, he offered a proposition.

You could either continue to work multiple low-wage income jobs, or you could work for him.

As the night came to a close, and he outstretched his hand to you one final time, he had left with you by his side.

You haven’t looked back since, and with all in consideration, it is a happy memory. Since that moment, things have gone uphill. Your debt has been cleared; you work a job you’re qualified for; life positively challenges you, and you still talk with Pantalone.

Still.

Why does it sound like he’s pulling you down when he recalls it?

Shame settles in when you remember where you come from, then resolve seeps through as you realise he hadn’t forgotten either. Over the years you have proven yourself.

Surly, him remembering where you came from must give you credit.

You suppose… these dinners are one way of showing his affection to you, albeit it being a bit roundabout.

…

Right?

Pantalone taps one of his intertwined fingers against the knuckle of the hand it rests on. His rings and the gemstones on them shine against the candlelight.

Again, you try to get to the point, “When you had asked me about my dreams that evening, I answered: ‘I want to see the world someday’. Back then, that seemed impossible. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it past the shabby part-time jobs and my run-down apartment—”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Pantalone’s nonchalant voice drips with ego and pride when he cuts you short. “I know you are appreciative.”

Your lips purse for a second and you fiddle with your fingers below the table. “That is not what I was trying to say.”

“So, you’re not?” He raises an eyebrow, either in offence or amusement. You’re not willing to guess.

“I—…You know that is not what I meant. I am indebted to you, I know that.”

Frustration bubbles up when you see a soft smile on his face. It makes your anger feel out of place, especially considering your meeting with him was supposed to be a good memory.

The news you’re about to tell is supposed to be good news.

Are you the one in the wrong?

Pantalone relaxes by leaning back into his chair. A gentle turn of his wrist urges you to continue, despite the mixed feelings in your chest.

You sigh,

“I have the opportunity to make my dreams come true and I wanted to tell you first. I’ve finally taken fate into my own hands. I am planning to leave for Snezhnaya.”

The news falls flat. Your previous frustration at Pantalone seeming to disregard you. has made your voice devoid of joy. Only a sense of letdown remains.

Out of everyone, you felt most proud to share the news with the one who made you fight for your future.

Your fingers hover over your pocket. The business card given to you by your friend brings a sense of pride and freedom. You’ve waited all your life for this—worked day and night.

Shouldn’t Pantalone be happy?

You look up from the half-finished dessert plate.

Pantalone's face is twisted in an unusual expression. His mouth is turned in a way that looks strained and awkward. His hands are still intertwined, but the grip has strengthened. Then, as you meet his eyes, you hold your breath.

The man sitting in front of you has always had a difficult time controlling his expressions.

Though, it is obvious you’ve never seen him this apoplectic before.

Then,

—he smiles.

The room grows cold, and a sudden chilly breeze brushes against the nape of your neck, making the hairs stand up straight. That laughter… You don't know what makes your skin crawl more, the disgust on his face or that vile condescending laughter.

Shocked beyond what you know to do, you mimic him with a nervous chuckle. If you didn't know better, you would've felt like you were in danger—prey to the predator.

After a few seconds, you carefully call out to him.

“Do you feel lonely, Y/n? Is that why you’re doing this?” Pantalone’s voice is unwaveringly strong and conclusive. It feels as if your answer won't matter because he already has his truth set in mind. “Do you feel neglected by me?”

Your throat is painfully dry when you swallow. You're both thirsty for water and a way out of the current topic. When you answer him, you sound like one of tonight's waiters bending and nearly snapping to his extreme expectations. “No, sir.”

“You know that I hate when you do that.” He stands up from his chair and instantly, one of the waiters on standby comes to his side.

Pantalone’s voice is cold and distant, “We’ll be taking our leave.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The rehearsed reply falls out of the worker’s lips instantly.

The young man who was unfortunate enough to serve him tonight hurries off to, what you assume to be, the hostess, so she can let the curtains fall after the last formalities have been told.

You’re still in your seat when Pantalone walks up to your side.

From the moment you met him, he has radiated grace, kindness, and a friendly appearance. Now, he hovers over you in an authoritative, if not menacing, manner.

Your hand shakes when you move to grab his. His fingers snake over your skin, holding on to you as if you’d disappear—tightly and oppressive.

Where did tonight go wrong?

Was it the news?

…

Though… why?

…

Have you always walked on eggshells around him?

The walk out of the restaurant feels heavy and solemn. The once lively background chatter goes now unnoticed. The opening hall also appeared less warm. From the moment Pantalone set his foot onto the last step of the stair, all the workers were focused on him, but never on you or the bruise forming on your wrist as he pulled you along.

By the time you reach the car, silence chokes you.

In the absence of his usual overly-present voice, you become more aware of Pantalone’s eyes. Those orbs, usually hidden by his thick dark lashes cling onto you, possessive, owning.

You don’t recall your arrival home, for Pantalone’s grip haunts your body like a burn that’d scar.

Somewhere between your arrival and now, you had walked deeper into the space. A trial follows you. It falls onto the cold tiles leading up to the bathroom, piece by piece getting rid of the fancy clothes Pantalone had brought, forgetting the necklace he had gifted, ridding yourself of the scent he had worn.

Hot water crashes into your neck and falls onto your body as you stand in the shower. You wonder, how can the world be so deafening quiet? Droplets trail down, racing to meet the drainage below, and your only thoughts consist of wanting to do the same.

On your wrist, you see the outlines of his hand by the bruises he gifted.

Your chest hurts. Your body aches. All you can do now is rub tonight’s events off your body until your skin is red and threatens to break.

You feel disgusting.

You feel trapped.

You feel alone.

You trace the mark of Pantalone’s hand on your wrist, finding that the marks remain even as time moves on.

By now, you realise it’s impossible to fall asleep when even in your dreams you feel his presence consume your life.

Soon, sunshine creeps through the windows, failing to wake you, for you hadn’t fallen asleep in the first place.

You sit on the ground with your phone in hand. In the other, you feel the business card that’s been ripped out of yesterday’s pockets.

Around you, littered throughout the luxurious apartment, lie two packed suitcases and a trail of the belongings you hadn’t deemed important enough to bring with you.

If you could, you would've left Snezhnaya yesterday.

In the capital’s streets, you recently had the pleasure to meet a familiar face. A friend from your university had found a job and has been travelling the world, turning their business course into a travelling agency so they can sustain their life.

After catching up with you, they had offered to take you with them, for—“dreams are meant to be chased. If we can’t, what else do we live for?”

The first chime of the clock hits and you click the button on your phone, dialling the number on the business card.

The call goes through.

“Beep… beep… beep… Hi! If I am unavailable, I am most likely busy. Don’t leave a message, just call again later. Thank you!”

Voicemail.

You try again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

And again.

After failing the call a sixth time, a gloomy feeling settles in.

You weren’t keen on going to work today and hoped that solidifying your plan with your friend would give you some positivity to make it through. Recalling the events from yesterday only made it more awkward to work in Pantalone’s bank, even if you never saw him at your workplace.

In theory, you can call in sick, but that’d only lure Pantalone out more.

A sigh escapes your lips and you lift your hand to your forehead.

It’s too early. Your friend must be asleep. By the end of today, you’re certain you'll get a callback. After all, when you met, they seemed just as excited to travel with you.

Now, you only needed to hang on a while longer. Soon, you’d be gone. Gone from this feeling. Gone from the control you’ve lost since you left university. Gone—reclaiming freedom once and for all.

The only one who knew about your plans was Pantalone.

Surely, if you ignored the unsettling feeling in your stomach, today would be like any other day.

“My Lord has requested your audience.”

You recognise the chauffeur in an instant. The car parked in front of your apartment is impossible to not recognise. Pantalone is here? With two suitcases in hand, you watch the chauffeur open the back door.

Fortunately, you find the inside empty.

Your eyes move to Pantalone’s chauffeur. “Why?”

“I apologise. My Lord only ordered for me to accompany you. He did not tell me why. Please, allow me to carry your bags to the car.”

You nod, grasping the phone in your pocket tightly. Ultimately, you had neither gone to work nor called in sick. Once the sun had risen, you had made up your mind and left your home with the idea of no return.

Is Pantalone upset?

Things were left on a tense note yesterday, you wonder if he wants to talk about it. Either way, now there is no chance of avoiding him. He made certain to stress that by sending one of his personnel to fetch you.

Did he decide to let you leave on amicable terms?

The drive from your home to Pantalone’s office is long and silent. You know he only hires the most competent people, and so, you are left with only your thoughts when the chauffeur refuses to keep you company.

The outside world shifts by in a blur. Soon, you find yourself in front of a familiar business.

‘Northland Bank’.

Ah…

When you finally step into his office, you meet Pantalone.

He sits behind a grand desk. And while his office is as luxurious as you had imagined it to be, you can’t appreciate it in the moment. Comfort and status radiate from his occupational area, and even the obscure spaces such as the wooden outside of dark cabinets against the walls were engraved in details and gold.

It feels stuffy, crowded, too much.

Your eyes meet his. Pantalone’s golden irises eerily match the furniture and affluence. Even while you’re standing as he sits in his chair, you feel as if you’re below him in every way—status, power, and control.

“I assume you’ve heard about your promotion?”

Pantalone intertwines his hands in front of him.

You’re surprised to hear his usual calm and soft voice.

He does not acknowledge yesterday’s happenings.

Wait, promotion?

“...what?”

“Sit down, my dear.” He signs to the chair on the other side of his desk, facing him instead of the room. It is much smaller than his, yet it is beyond extravagance when compared to the seats you usually sit in.

For a second, you’re unsure whether to bring up yesterday or to let it go and pretend it had never happened. The latter sounds more alluring at the moment.

Pantalone continues.

“I have been searching for a new assistant since the previous one unexpectedly… quit.”

He takes a second, looking into your face patiently as he tries to fish for a reaction. The grandfather clock that ticks throughout the room feels like the last digits counting down before a bomb goes off.

He continues, “After careful consideration, I felt you were best suited for the job.”

“Thank you, sir, but—”

“Pantalone,” he corrects you.

“Yes… Pantalone,” you hesitate. “I am extremely grateful for your generous offer but I have to refuse.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles, waving you off like a fly. “You’ve worked for me as an administrator for long. I know you have the skills and rigour for the task and I certainly don’t doubt your potential under my guidance.”

His words snake out of his mouth like tiny daggers pinning you down.

“No si—Pantalone, that’s… I am thankful for your praise, but I recall mentioning my plans to travel to other nations. I-it has been a dream of mine since I was younger. Now that my debts have been repaid—I—”

“Debts repaid?”

You watch as Pantalone’s smile broadens. He gently shakes his head.

“If I recall yesterday’s happening correctly, you admitted you are indebted to me. Is that not true? If so, do you believe you are in a position to refuse me? Is this not the perfect chance to pay off your debt after all I’ve given to you?”

Your resolve waivers at his words. He is right about the first part, but you always worked for him and he paid you. As much as you feel indebted to him, it was baseless. Chains made from nothing but air.

This, everything, is a fair exchange.

When you try to interject, Pantalone returns to the paperwork on his desk.

Without a second glance, he shakes his hand into the air and disregards you with little to no more respect than he does the waiters in the restaurant—always below him, ready at his disposal with a single word.

You barely get a single word past your lips when he overtakes the conversation, turning it into a monologue in the absence of your input.

“For now, be a dear and fetch me something to drink. I’m sure the kitchen staff will help you figure out what I usually get. I’ll explain your tasks once I’m finished.”

Your eyes move over to his desk.

Your friend’s business card.

Where did he find that?

The phone in your pocket is heavier than ever. Refusing him at this point would bring you more conflict.

Your plans with your friend were still intact.

You can and will leave this nation.

You only have to remain strong for a while longer.

It takes a second, but you eventually move up from the chair. “Once I’ve brought you your drink, where can I find my desk?”

“Desk?” Through his glasses and long lashes, he looks up at you. “Do you honestly believe I’ve brought you here to do administrative work? No, your new job is to keep me company.”

When your confused expression bemuses him, he dismissively continues.

“Just sit in one of the chairs, or the couch. I don’t particularly care as long as you remain in my office. Feel free to read one of the books on the shelf. As long as you are able to put it down whenever I want you to, I’ll allow it.”

You stand still, letting the words fall over you as you grow numb.

“From now on, your job is to listen to me, understood?”

For the first time since you met him, you realise why you feel so detached from him. You’ve become so accustomed to luxury, it became hard to look past the shimmer and gold.

But now, when you look into Pantalone’s eyes, they’re worth nothing.

Once you stop idolising the gold that surround him, you find a dull and exhausting life filled with nothing but vengeance and spite.

You’re nothing but a pet to him.

You never had the chance to be anything else.

“Beep…beep…beep… you have one voicemail. Press 1 to hear it.”

BEEP.

“Hey, Y/n. Sorry, I missed your call. See— I, uh… well… I needed to leave Snezhnaya. I can’t bring you with me. So please don't try to reach me again… …stay sa—”

“End of voicemail message.”

…

“Beep… beep… beep…

Unfortunately, the number you have tried to call no longer exists. Please check the number and try again later.

Beeep—”

#₊⊹ ⌞finished appointments⌝#pantalone x reader #yandere genshin x reader #pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #tw: yandere #yandere #harbinger x reader #genshin harbingers #fatui harbingers #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere pantalone x reader #fatui x reader #fatui

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a-doubleh-x · 6 months

Text

Why I like Charlastor

The other day I noticed there was some negativity in the Charlastor tag, including antis and people feeling the need to defend against antis, so I thought I might as well take a step back and just write candidly about why I like the ship.

I only got into Hazbin in October of last year, but already it has inspired me a lot to write and fantazise about it. Like most people, I started with the classic "they look cute together", but as I kept looking I couldn't help but think there was something else to these two than first met the eye.

For starters, I love Pollyanas! I think they get a bad rep for being naive, but I just appreciate an optimist like Charlie who just wants to make people around her happy because it makes her happy. I also like bad boys 😳 I'm a pretty heteronormative guy, so I haven't had a big chance to explore that part of myself yet, but I do like the danger and excitement someone like Alastor brings to the table.

I will admit when I started writing Charlastor I felt like I was handling dynomite. It's a lil scary to ship a boundless altruist with a manipulative sociopath, but bear with me.

I think each of them has something the other needs. I think Charlie needs someone to challenge her, someone to steer her in the right direction while she's mostly isolated. At the start of the series, practically nobody but Vaggie takes her seriously, and Alastor is no exception. He mocks her, teases her, but she still listens and I think it's because somewhere deep down she understands there's something he's trting to communicate in his annoying, but curious way.

Of course, I also love the fanon Charlie who's down bad for Alastor, and even if that Charlie is a little naive, I think it's also sweet and she can use some indulgence while most people treat her like a child.

On the other hand, when it comes to Alastor, this is a bit of a theory on my part, but I think he's secretely lonely. He has friends, certainly, like Rosie and Mimzy, but they're not good enough friends to live together with him. They don't seem to be able to save him from "pure, absolute boredom". But Charlie, for some reason can, even though she's a stranger at the beginning when Alastor chooses to move into the Hotel.

Alastor is not as much of a cynic as someone who chooses to see things in a perspective that benefits him. He doesn't think redeeming sinner is "hopeless", but "hilarious" instead, which has interesting implications to me. That's why he chooses to hover around Charlie, not because he thinks she's lame, rather because he thinks she's silly. She makes him laugh. Which I think is kind of how Alastor sees "love".

And then you have fanon Alastor who, depending on the writer, is either a horny animal, a wisecrack edgelord or a soft boy who's mean to everyone but Charlie XD I like several of those interpretations, but I kinda prefer mine just out of personal taste. I think the best part about Alastor is that he doesn't *care* what anyone thinks of him and always does what he wants, even at the expense of other people, which I find pretty enviable.

They're kinda both outcasts in their own ways. Charlie by being unable to fit in and Alastor being unwilling to compromise. But they don't judge each other. He supports her in his own weird way and she houses him and is delighted of him in general, which is tasty food for his ego. I do wonder why Alastor is interested in Charlie, both in canon and in a fandom vacuum.

There's some cool potential for drama there, but also growth and healing, in my opinion. Personally, I think Alastor doesn't want to actually *hurt* Charlie, but he may hurt those around her, which will be a moment to start settling compromises if Charlie puts her foot down.

That haz bin my review so far! I'm honestly pretty grateful for Vivziepop for all of the work she's done so far, I know directing, animating and writing two shows over the course of 5 year or so ain't easy. I'm also grateful to the fandom who shares their thoughts and vision, which calms the terrible voices I started hearing in my head since I bought this weird old radio.

I'm in the middle of a break, but if you're interested in my fanfics I'll get back to writing very soon. Cheers! 🌈❤🦌

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #alastor hazbin hotel #charlastor

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miintsprigz · 7 months

Note

Hello!! What would Spy, Scout, and Engie be like with a s/o who is startlingly good at voice impressions?

Dang, Anon, kept ya waitin’ long enough?

Thank you for your patience! I hope that this brightens your day.

Gonna do bullet points for this one just because I think it’ll work better. Apologies that this one isn’t as long, this is a really creative prompt! I just didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. 💚

Mercs With A S/O Who Does Voice Impressions

Characters: Spy, Scout, Engineer (Team Fortress 2)

Warnings: none come to mind

Spy 🥖

•Spy discovered your hidden talent one day when you were asking him if he wanted to accompany you out for a quick grocery store run…on what happened to be a rather rainy day.

• “(Y/N), mon bijou, as much as I love being around you, the rain will—”

• “… ‘ruin the new shoes I just got, and I can’t have this suit getting wet either’.” You’d been working on that one for a while. Spy stared at you, actually slightly slack-jawed.

• “…pardon?” “Didn’t know I could do that, did you?” “…no, no I did not.”

•Honestly? He’s just a little jealous. That was kind of his thing? I dunno, man just wants to be a bit special.

•That being said, as you start implementing this into your talks with him more and more, he finds it to be yet another quality that makes you lovely.

•He’ll tease you at times. “How can I be sure you aren’t an enemy spy?” You laughed at this, resting your hands on his shoulders. “I dunno, do these feel like the hands of an enemy spy?”

•Biting back a laugh, he shakes his head and pulls you closer, dipping you into a kiss. As he draws back, he smirks. “And those feel like the lips of my love…very well. You must be the real one.”

Scout ⚾️

•You actually first utilized this ability of yours as a hail-mary during a fight. Scout was close to bringing the briefcase to safety when the enemy Scout suddenly charged.

•Seeing this, you looked over at Heavy, hoping he would be okay with this. “‘GOOD TIME TO RUN, COWARD!’”, you mimicked. Instinctually, the enemy Scout flinched in terror. Giving yourself just enough time…

• “Heavy! Thanks for the help, man.” “Scout, I was not over there…” “But I heard you right behind me…” The gears in his head visibly turned.

• “Oh! That would be (Y/N). They are very good at that.” Jeremy’s mouth dropped open, only to immediately curve into a huge grin. “(Y/N)…for real??? Do it again!”

• With a proud grin, you obliged. “‘(Y/N) can sound like giant man!’ See?” Scout howled with delighted laughter.

• “Whoa-ho-ho, that’s freakin’ SICK, (Y/N)! Why didn’t you ever show me you could do dat?” “I dunno, it never really came up in conversation.”

•From that point on, he’d ask if you could “do the thing” all the time. You almost always agreed, his reactions were the cutest. He’d actively show it off, with your permission.

• “Yo, my baby here, watch ‘em. …ain’t that cool?!”

•Scout was actually pretty decent at impressions himself (you already know where he got that from), and sometimes the two of you would go back and forth for a while, cracking yourselves up.

•There came a time where you rolled your eyes at one of his requests. That seemed to make him a little nervous.

• “Hey uh…(Y/N)…do you want me to stop askin’ you to do the voices?” “Huh? Oh…I mean, if I’m tired, maybe.” “Arright…I know you’re probably sick of doin’ it, but I just think it’s so cool.”

•You giggled. He looked all lovestruck even now. “I’m glad you think so~” “You really are the coolest, babe, you know that? All around. I’m the luckiest guy in this whole place.” “Awww~”

Engineer ⚙️

•The first time you did this, it was to try and mess with Dell just a little.

• “‘Needa dispenser here!’” “Scout? Where’d you need that dispenser?” “I have no idea whatcha talkin’ about.” “What? But I just heard ya!” “Hardhat, I wasn’t even over there!”

•You only got away with this a few more times before he caught you midway through. His head turned quick enough to see your mouth moving.

•With the way his goggles and hardhat covered up some of the more expressive parts of his face, you couldn’t tell if he was genuinely mad or not. “(Y/N), that’s you doin’ that, ain’t it?”

• “Yeah…” Your face flushed slightly with embarrassment. “…sorry. Got carried away.” Shaking his head, the serious expression began to break somewhat, chuckling. “Ah, no harm no foul, I s’pose. Just uh…not while I’m workin’, maybe?”

•With a smirk, you mimicked him perfectly. “‘Alrighty, partner.’” “Hoo, that really is uncanny, ain’t it? How do you do that?” Holding a finger to your lips, you snickered, and you could tell he was rolling his eyes at you.

•A week or two later, while you were on break, you heard him calling you. “Engie?” Following his voice to his workshop, you looked for him. He was nowhere to be seen in here…but you’d sworn his voice had come from here.

•Looking down, you saw a new machine on his desk. Looking closer, you saw a speaker.

• “Checkmate, darlin’!” With a hearty laugh, Engie leaned in through the doorway. “Okay, you got me…” It was your turn to roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

•The two of you actually would utilize this on the battlefield if you had the energy for it, getting the other team mixed up. Both of you got quite the laugh out of it.

•He never really asked you to do any of that on your own time though.

•One night, he even took you on the side after using that technique. “Hey, (Y/N)…you know I love hearin’ you as yourself more than any of your impressions, right?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

•Laughing, you rested your head against him. “Yeah, don’t worry, I know.”

• “Alright. Just wanted to make sure.”

#engie x reader #tf2 engineer x reader #engineer x reader #tf2 engineer #engineer tf2 #tf2 scout x reader #scout x reader #team fortress 2 scout #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #spy x reader #spy team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 spy #tf2 spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #mint writes

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circeyoru · 7 months

Note

(UNWANTED SOUL idea) when reader gets turned to an angle instead of being stuck in heaven they immediately return via their page teleportation. So no angsty alastor for more than 5 min. But they teleported right behind Adam and we're the one to kill him much to alastors delight and everyone else's confusion.

Later on alastor is learning to take care of the readers wings since reader forgets they have them and let's them fall to disreapare.

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}. *Check the redeem you ones

Okay, no angst. Err... Maybe a bit, just a touch

I'll bet that Alastor was crushed when he saw you disappear into thin air. Not the type where you teleport elsewhere to avoid him, but actually disappear, gone, dead. When his soul was returned to him and his limitations all gone. He wrathfully unleashed at Adam.

Somehow I feel like Alastor using his full power will have massive pressure and tension built the closer one's to him. Within that less than 5 minutes, let's say Alastor singlehandedly got the barrier up again and slaughtered any and all angels that come into his perimeter. Charlie and the others all felt the surge in Alastor's power and pressure, immediately heading towards him to see what was happening since their stations were all cleared thanks to Alastor.

To counter Alastor, Adam used more power as well. In the end, Alastor was still no match but unlike in the show, he doesn't back down because you were gone. In his mind, that memory kept replaying, there was two option for him: either kill Adam or die trying.

When the Charlie and the other made it to Alastor's battlefield, they shouted for him to stop and retreat because he was at a disadvantage the more he fights. He was clearly losing that charisma he had at the start of the battle.

"Stay out of this, Charlie." Alastor threatened the moment he saw her step closer.

Adam laughed, "Aww, did I kill your little crush? Too bad. Demons like you don't deserve happiness."

Charlie and the others all wondered what Adam was talking about; Alastor was obviously triggered again as he headfirst into Adam for another more personal attack. An obvious trap that cornered Alastor.

With his axe positioned to Alastor's neck, Adam stared down with a victorious grin, "Time to meet your little babe, right?"

Alastor let down his barrier, he couldn't explain why, but he just did it. Like a voice told him so or a feeling of a familiar presence.

The moment he did, the abandoned book you always bring around opened itself and the pages flew at Adam. Confusing him. He backed up and away from Alastor, trying to swat away the pages that were coming at him like mad.

A new figure emerged, two pairs of silver wings and a bright halo was the only thing Alastor could see. Though his sight was more focused on the way one of the pages sliced Adam's head off of his neck like butter. Alastor's red eyes followed the rolling head and falling body. With a tired back, he looked up at the figure.

"My... Dar....ling?"

"Yes, Alastor." You stepped closer to him, your pages fluttering around like harmless petals now, you kneeled down and gave him a hug as gently as possible to not put pressure on his pain.

"You're... back..." Alastor wrapped his hands around you to bring him closer to you, his body shook. "Am I... Is this... a dre...am?"

Your wings instinctively wrapped around him, glowing as they healed your wounded love. For the brief moment you had your new angelic powers, you were already using them like you had him your entire life. "No, Alastor. It's not a dream."

"Stay with me... Don't leave... me..."

You smiled, "I won't, Alastor. I'll miss you too much."

-------

Yes! An exact echo. Remember how in part 2 (I think) you tell him you missed him before entering your slumber mode? Yeah, it's happening here too.

The reason why I gave Reader/you two pairs of wings here is cause it shows power and authority. If you're not trapped as long as you were before, then something has to change, and that is your power and authority over the exterminations or specifically portal to Hell. Here, you're an angel that controls the entrance to Heaven and Hell. Think guardian, like that~

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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janghoefett · 9 months

Text

Boba Fett is in love with you (and you're in love with him).

Boba Fett x gn!reader, all fluff but my work is always 18+

----------

He’s known for some time now.

Really, it had been true since the moment he saw you, but it was only just recently that Boba Fett came to terms with the fact that he loves you.

Like most things, it was something the bounty hunter kept closely guarded, even from you. No one had to know - no one had to know how important you were to him, that he would move mountains and kill anyone to keep you safe, that you mattered more to him than anyone or anything in the galaxy.

"I love you," he thought every time you kissed his lips.

"I love you," he thought every night, just as soon as you fell asleep in his arms.

"I love you," sat at the tip of his tongue every time you so much as smiled at him or looked at him with soft eyes.

On some days he would feel as if there were clear skies and warm sun shining above him, no matter if he were in his ship, on an ice planet, or any other corner of the galaxy that was not as lovely as you. On other days, he would convince himself that he had stayed with you for far too long, and that it was best to part ways before either of you got hurt.

But he could never bring himself to leave your side. It was those equal parts delight and terror that told him he was in love with you.

Boba Fett had a complicated history with love. He had loved his father - he still loved his father, despite coming to terms with all the man's flaws - but Boba's father never exactly set the precedent for showing affection. Love wasn't something you shared aloud; love was a weakness, something you experienced privately - maybe something you'd be persuaded to show with your actions, but never with your words.

There had been others before you, of course. Loves that had ended in tremendous disaster, mostly. But Boba Fett was not one to regret; he had learned something from all of them. And because of them, he was better for you.

And you were better than all of them.

You...

You had made a lost man so sure of where he needed to go.

Boba had just come very close to telling you his feelings. He was due to be leaving for two rotations on a difficult hunt and was silently debating with himself if now was the time to get the weight off his chest. Yes, perhaps that's what he needed to find some relief, or perhaps he wanted to tell you in case this hunt would be his last - but still he caught himself before saying anything he couldn't take back.

"Be careful," Boba told you instead, as if you were the one about to be seeking out a dangerous criminal. "I'll come back to you."

I'll come back to you always seemed to be as close as he got. You knew it was his way of saying he would be thinking of you, that he was acknowledging whatever you had between you as something that was important to him.

And every time you wondered if whatever magic you were feeling in your chest was being felt in his.

It was a rough hunt for Boba. You weighed heavily on his mind, despite his best efforts to focus on the job at hand. Still, he was the best at what he does, of course, and he got the job done - Boba Fett always got the job done - but there was something about this hunt that felt like he wouldn't be able to last another with this feeling in his chest.

As soon as you throw your arms around him when he walks through your door, he catches you and holds you close, pulling your face in close to mold his lips to yours.

I love you.

"Boba," you smile softly, your hands grazing across his stubble.

And with a knowing, vulnerable look in each of your eyes, Boba cups your face between his hands and kisses you softly. His eyes lock onto yours again and the air between you grows thin with the tension of all that had remained unspoken between you.

"I love you."

It had come tumbling from his mouth this time. Unplanned. Unprompted. But the words were straight from his soul.

With your heart racing, you pull him back to your lips and he deepens it quickly, unknowing if you had returned his sentiments, but burning with a desperate need to make you feel his love.

And while his words had first left you stunned, Boba's kiss had made everything real, leaving you no doubt that your heart was safe to give over.

"I love you!" you whisper through the widest smile.

Perhaps a love as true as this could be home.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett

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anyasathenaeum · 1 year

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Can i request vash & wolfwood his wife didnt know she pregnant, so reader do overwork until pass out in the end both of them know reader is pregnant, and the reaction his wife giving birth the twins i wanna see how absurd they face it 🥺🙏✨ thank you

And really love u writings anyway

A/N: WAIT THAT'S KINDA CUTE, headcanons coming up! Thanks for the request and thank you so much for reading my stuff! :D

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy, childbirth, blood, slight violence in Wolfwoods', reader is AFAB in this one

Vash the Stampede

Given that Vash is... Vash, there was no way either of you knew if you could even get pregnant in the first place.

Seriously - no known plant/human hybrids existed, so the two of you never really thought much of it. You both just kind of assumed hybrids couldn't exist because plants couldn't reproduce with humans

Well, how WRONG you both were

But of course, because neither of you knew it could happen, neither of you caught on when you eventually started feeling nauseous, throwing up at random points in the day and feeling gently under the weather

110% you and Vash both were like "aww dang a cold? That sucks" and Vash would cuddle you lots to try and make you feel better cause he just thought you were sick

You also didn't let this sudden "sickness" slow you down - you kept working hard, on the run with Vash and the others, moving constantly, sleeping under the glow of the worms in the warm sand, hauling your weight and then some as the group continued to travel across No Man's Land

However, what you hadn't anticipated was suddenly not being able to do as much as you used to be able to - suddenly the sun beating down on you was too much, the heat overwhelming, and before you knew it, you had collapsed

Vash and the others were definitely concerned, but the concern turned to confusion and disbelief when they accidentally got a look at your stomach when your shirt had ridden up as you sat up once you regained consciousness - your stomach was SWOLLEN.

Everybody was a bit freaked out, you very much included, until you started to put the pieces together - your "illness", your sudden inability to tolerate things as you had before, your stomach swelling

"Vash... I-I think I might be... pregnant?"

Honestly, I think Vash would be stunned at first but once he realizes that what you're saying makes sense (and after the confirmation of a doctor from one of the nearby towns you guys travelled through), he'd be DELIGHTED

Would be the type of husband/partner who would never let you carry anything heavy anymore, hovering over you protectively, always worrying and making sure you were comfortable and not endangering yourself or your baby

"You need to rest, (Y/N)! You're growing a whole new being, you and I have gotta make sure you're taking good care of yourself now!"

Would give you ankle/foot massages A LOT to help with discomfort

Vash would definitely spend a lot of time talking to your tummy as it grows bigger, pressing soft kisses to your stomach and caressing it gently

Vash would be excited but TERRIFIED simultaneously to be a dad - so much sadness, death and regret followed him everywhere he went, and he was terrified to bring you into it, let alone an innocent child

You would have to comfort him and reiterate that you were in it together and that you think he'd be a wonderful dad

Also, because Vash is a plant and they age rapidly compared to humans, the pregnancy would be faster than a traditional human pregnancy

Vash has seen births before, especially given how long he's been around, so that part of it all doesn't make him nervous. The fact that now, it's HIS child, THAT makes him nervous

Would absolutely cry during the birth of your twins, partially out of fear, partially out of joy, and also partially because you'd gripped his hand so hard that you'd likely broken several of his fingers (oops)

Borderline passed out when they told him there were TWO babies - he wasn't expecting that at all

IDK why but I can see him being a dad to either twin boys (like him and Nai), or 1 girl, 1 boy.

It doesn't matter though, cause Vash would love your babies from the moment they let out their first cry, the reality hitting him - he's a father now.

Would give anything to protect you and his children - you're his world. His family. <3

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Unlike Vash, you and Wolfwood absolutely knew that pregnancy could happen

You and him both were sorta neutral about it - not actively trying to prevent a pregnancy, but not actively trying to conceive either.

"If it happens, it happens," Wolfwood said with a shrug when you brought it up to him

And so, you two just went about your lives together as always.

Of course, neither of you really bothered to keep tabs on your pregnancy status because you were busy travelling (and being on the run) with Vash and the others

Everything was as it usually was, with the group trying to escape from another disastrous clash with a police force of some kind, bullets flying past you all

You were hiding behind a corner, covering Wolfwood as he managed to fend off the cops coming after Vash and the rest of you, when a stray bullet struck you in the side, causing you to cry out and fall back

"(Y/N)!" You heard Wolfwood scream out your name, but you couldn't seem to see where he was anymore

Before you knew what was happening, the world went black

When you woke, your eyes opening to bright light, you quickly gasped and sat up only to cry out from the sharp pain in your side

Wolfwood was by your side, a deep scowl on his face, but you could see in his eyes that he was scared

"Mornin', sweetheart, nice of you to rejoin us in the land of the living."

Once you were more fully awake, the doctor came in to speak with you and Wolfwood, cheerfully reporting that "Thankfully, the bullet missed anything important, and the baby is just fine, too."

Umm, what?

Both you and Wolfwood choked slightly on your own spit as the doctor said that, with you coughing out "What baby?"

Yup, turns out you were pregnant and had been for a little while already at that point

From that point forward, Wolfwood becomes EXTREMELY protective of you, refusing to let you walk in front of him or even stand in front of him (he plans to use his body to protect yours if something bad happens)

He'd do his best to smoke less and not do it around you because it isn't good for the baby (he's trying hard but he still forgets sometimes)

Wolfwood would be the kind of guy who outwardly seems very relaxed and unphased by the situation but secretly has tried to read through every parenting book he could get his hands on

And when it's time for you to give birth? Listen, Wolfwood has seen a lot of things in his life, but he was NOT expecting birth to be that gruesome

Would become very pale, sweating profusely before dropping like a stone, out cold

Comes back to life when your baby begins to cry, announcing their arrival into the world

You would witness a rigid man bend and soften in front of you - you'd see Wolfwood's gaze soften and a genuine smile appear on his face as he holds your and his baby in his arms, a tiny hand wrapping around one of his fingers

Love at first sight for Wolfwood - he never thought a family would be something he wanted, but now that he has one? He's never letting go of it

Until the doctor announces that the second baby was coming

Thankfully the nurse had enough sense to take your baby from Wolfwood's arms shortly before the doctor announced that because he ended up back on the floor, out cold again

Kind of a wuss around childbirth but he loves his babies (and you) more than anything else in his life

I can definitely see him as a dad to twin girls (idk why he gives me girl dad energy)

#anya's athenaeum #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #trigun stampede #vash x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun #trigun x reader #wolfwood #wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood

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